Burning Phoenix
by sentinel10
Summary: Her cheek is soft against my own and I close my eyes to bite back the groan lodged in my chest. The familiarity of her skin, her smell, the everything's I have missed all these years flood me like a drowning man at sea. Shes everywhere yet so far away. AU
1. Chapter 1

**All recognised items and characters belong to their rightful owners. **

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><p><span>Burning Phoenix<span>

...

A wave of panic fills my chest as I thrum my fingers atop the square wooden table, sipping back my black aromatic coffee with the other.

Spices swirl on the top of the heated water, dancing in shapes, sprawling through the black tundra of liquid before lying still and ending its wondrous display.

The clank of the cup hitting the white ceramic dish grains on my nerves as I place my cup down against the table and check my wrist watch for the twentieth time in as many minutes.

The hum of the coffee machine creates a soothing, calm inducing melody which only instigates my nervousness further.

I want to smile and enjoy my Saturday morning as much as the people in the opposing tables seem to be, but the dread of years past fill me so fully, it's hard to expect, that even with her earlier promises, she'll actually show this time.

Running a shaky hand through my hair I glance down at my attire. The colour drains from my face when I contemplate the possibility of her not recognising me after all these years and simply passing by the coffee house without another glance through the misty, advertisement covered front window.

My once black tees have been replaced with an almost fluffy, green blue sweater which makes me stick out like a sore thumb in the sea of young hip artsy types which pack the coffee house and surrounding suburbs.

Gone are the days of my rebellious black jeans with torn up slices in the denim, only now to be substituted by full length khaki trousers which lead down - not to boots - but to my brown old man loafers, which had been a present from my daughter before she left to college.

The dark orange and brown strands of hair no longer brush my forehead or neck, a strange short and trim cut adorning my crown and rounding out around my temples.

I feel like a traitor, like I've become everything I _never_ wanted to be and that's why, when I catch my reflection in the glass, it floors me on my ass.

My reflection is that of a stranger.

Grey colouring litters my temples, and the creases around my eyes suddenly remind me - I am not the young man I use to be.

And while my body is still fit for a man in his early fifties, I no longer have the body of an Adonis, or so my ex-wife tells me _constantly_. I no longer possess the strength of a hundred horses or the stamina of a man in his sexual prime.

I'm old, and seemingly, only getting older.

The waitress dressed in black who sports one too many piercings glances my way, performing a silent check on the status of my half-drunk cup.

A nod from me sends her bored yet inquisitive gaze to another table which nods for a refill.

I notice her skirt is full, stopping just before her ankle bones. To my surprise; her feet are tucked in yellow socks with tiny white geese on them. They look warm and comfortable and the notion hits me dead in the face.

There's a facade, we all, as human beings put up.

The first impression of her dress sense portrays an angry, heavy metal listening, far too much make up wearing, young woman who was prone to drugs and rage parties with the possibility of weekend devil worshiping.

However, the softness of the socks and the gentle show of vulnerability shine through.

It's an act to purposefully keep others at bay; an act even after all the days and years that have passed, I am still fighting to tear down within the walls of my own self.

Checking my watch again I tap against its face to make sure it is still in working order, especially since I have never changed the battery and its original had been in place since my wife gifted it to me.

A sense of emptiness fills me again as I raise the silver to my ears and hear the slow tick of time.

_Time_.

Who ever knew such a small thing could change the courses of two lives. Whether it was not enough or too much, I am still unsure.

I had spent years reflecting on the possibility of how our lives could have ended up. But the grainy beat of time reminds me constantly that it waits for no one.

Time will pass us in the blink of an eye should we be indecisive and waste its precious haven.

Time would wither us, age us, and tear us down. But it is also _time_ that gives us chances to reflect, to make amends of mistakes rather forgotten or mistakes at the time we feel unforgivable.

Time does not heal quickly, and it does not allow one to turn back nor step back into its past.

Time merely - _passes_.

Passes until one day you're not sure of whom you are anymore, of what you've become, as you've let it and yourself slip away into the dark abyss.

The bell above the entrance door rings loudly and entices my mind and attention back to the coffee shop on Pike Place in which I wait.

Shaking the heavy demons and dark past from my mind I sigh and run a hand over my face.

For years I'd thought about what I'd say if I ever saw _her_ again. However, even after several dissertations in English literature and a degree in the arts, I still have nothing concrete - nothing _real_ that would let her know how I feel about her - how I've _always_ felt.

From the first moment I saw her fighting animatedly with her delusional lover at a Panther meeting which I'd been dragged to by a guy I'd hung out with for a less than a month, I knew she was different.

Needless to say, at the time, the only one who seemed different - had been me.

...

"Are you sure about this?" I hiss-whisper to Laurent as he all but drags me by my arm toward the entrance of the old graffiti covered building. The cold wind whips around our bodies and it's more than fair to say I want to be inside, but knowing what was going on inside is what I am not sure about.

"It's cool man." He scolds, rolling his eyes at my antics. "I told them I'd be bringing a friend."

"Do they know I'm white?" I growl as I pry his thick fingers from around my upper arm.

Stopping he turns and scoffs in my direction, as if I have asked the most ridiculous question he has even heard. "Would it matter?"

"Of course it fucking matters." I all but scream, dragging Laurent this time, closer to the brick of the building allowing me to quickly glance around us to check for unwanted ears.

I feel like a paranoid wreck and if I hadn't downed the three lines in the 'Metro's' bathroom I highly doubt I would be in the mess. "We're going to a Panther meeting and last time I checked there were certain... pre requites that you had to meet."

"Look Ed, chill the fuck out man. Here's the drill. I knock, we ask for my cousin Silky, and then we offer your services. Piece of cake, right?"

"Laurent man, I'm not sure about this." I sigh dragging my cold hands over my face. "What if innocent people get hurt man? What if kids die?"

"Eddy, trust me. Silky said all they need is for someone to make - _it_ - and then were out. We walk away with the two large and then we can get all the pussy and coke we can get our hands on. Live like fucking kings if we want. Think of the money, man."

...

A cool draft swirls around my ankles from the open door which causes me to frown and avert my eyes to the culprit.

A beautiful woman in her late forties stands in the doorway, her hand resting against its frame as her eyes wonder over the crowd. The red pea coat and tight black slacks she's wearing are the expensive kind, similar to what my daughter Alice wears to work as a foreign advisor with the UN. She graduated with top honours, much to the great swelling pride in my chest, and is my only child who can speak more languages than she has fingers.

"Dad, don't cry," Alice had giggled as she wrapped her arms around me at her college graduation. Her red trencher and gown almost glowing against her pale colouring and dyed black hair, making her seem so much younger than the very sophisticated professional woman in front of me. She'd studied aboard in Italy for almost four year to get her Masters in Linguistics.

I hadn't replied immediately, opting to take a few deep breaths before I could express my absolute pride without crying like a small child. "You're just so grown up, so mature," I told her hoarsely as I swallowed the lump lodged in my throat. "What will I do without my princess?"

"I'll always be your princess Dad," she had smiled before ushering the whole family toward the photo bar including my ex-wife's new husband.

Waterlily's assault my nostrils causing my thoughts to dwell and my attention to draw back to the door.

The woman standing is taller than most and the height difference seems to magnify as a young blonde teenager steps under her supporting arm and darts into the coffee house to take shelter from the cold windy day outside, many of which, Seattle has.

Letting my eyes trace her outline I swallow loudly, my hand almost stifling my cup as I stand from the chair, wincing as it scuffs along the tiled ground causing a hideous screeching sound.

What stands out the most for me is the fact that she's cut her hair, something I'd thought she would never do. It's once unruly, wild woman look is finally tamed in a short, petite style which frames her face and gives her the appearance of a sophisticated business woman or rather an actress, mirroring a cut similar to 'Twiggy' in the height of her modelling success.

Her full lips press up into a smile, gloss filling the fullness inside them, making them seem just as enticing as the day we met, as the first time we kissed.

Short manicured nails press back strands of hair around her ear as her gaze draws over me and takes me in.

Closing her eyes softly as if in contemplation, it looks as if her eyes are laughing, chuckling even, and in the dense situation I let a nervous chuckle of my own fall from my lips.

...

"What the fuck is this _L_. I told you the kinds of people I run with," Laurent's brother who I am assuming is Silky says from the narrow slit in the door.

The rest of the apartment high rise seems vacant. Either that or they all know what goes down in apartment 25B. Even with the cold draft echoing through the empty halls I feel myself start to sweat. Tugging at my collar to find some relief I stand awkwardly as Silky assess me.

His dark eyes roam over me, suspicion being the main emotion flooding through them. If the positions had been reversed I would have felt the exact same way. It wasn't every day that a white boy shows up to a Black Panther meeting.

"Silky, I'm telling you man, this is the guy," Laurent hisses edging forward toward the door, "You know, the _guy_"

After another silent eye-balling session, a hushed conversation between two men and four shaky shots of dark liquor, I find myself somehow in the apartment and seated in an old brown couch. Laurent stands next to me talking and rough housing with old friends and new, leaving me as the centre of attention for the rest of the room.

Dark eyes roam around me and wait, as if anticipating my next move. The people here don't want to know me, don't trust me, yet still they say nothing. Most of them are African American but there are a few different nationalities circling the room which puts me at ease a little. I had never in my life experienced the feeling of being hated, on sight.

Slowly a gap opens in the crowd of people and through it steps a well-dressed man. His hair is cut perfectly, his clothing pressed neatly complete with a red handkerchief in the breast pocket of the dark grey suit. His dark skin makes him majestic like, his body tall and shoulders wide like a lion hunting for his prey. Each step he takes toward me feels like the ground shakes with an authorial challenge, his aura commanding attention within the rest of the group.

Taking a seat in the opposite couch he looks over me and takes me in. My black jeans have seen better days and my white tee and black leather jacket ensemble seem to amuse him somehow by the way he smiles.

As soon as he finishes assessing me a woman steps out of nowhere with a large glass, it's content filled with only ice and liquor.

He takes it graciously and nods at her and then at me.

"What are you drinking?" she asks me, her skin brown and soft reminding me of velvet sheets. Her dark hair is curled and she's got a brilliant smile that reaches all the way to her eye teeth. She's sexy and she knows it.

"A beer's fine," I say, watching as she then looks to the man and awaits his nod of permission. Once she wanders off, we sit again in a strange silence.

After taking a large yet delicate sip he finally speaks to me, "I've heard a lot about you, son," he says, his voice deep, commanding even, sounding more like a politician than anything. I fucking hated politicians.

I nod, not knowing if I should deny or admit to the information he has received about me.

"Silky tells me that you are a man of many talents," he chuckles as he takes another sip of his drink, pointing to Laurent's cousin who is hovering near the bar and exchanging words with a South American looking man.

"I am, sir."

"Sir?" he laughs, a grin settling on his face, "I like that," he whispers to himself, liking the sound of the title I had used. "But trust me boy, you will find no _sir's_ around here."

"Perhaps a name then?" I suggest as the woman comes back to hand me a beer and replace the man's now empty glass with a full one. His large fingers wrap around the glass and the gold rings catch my eyes.

"You can call me Bruce, but you and I both know you are not here to make pleasantries," he grins leaning forward, "tell me Mr Cullen, have you ever seen a bomb explode? Have you ever seen it tear apart the limbs of a human being?"

Swallowing, I tighten my grasp on the beer in my hand, "Yes, sir. I've seen it"

"Good," Bruce murmurs as he leans back into his seat, "How long will to take for it to be ready?"

"What size are we talking?"

"Enough to make a statement but regal enough not to harm innocent bystanders"

"Three hours. But I'll need supplies; some items are not easy to get on the streets."

"Fear not son, I have many friends in both low and high places. You will have your items."

...

The sight of a large native boy behind her has me looking toward the ground as if we had just been caught groping each other in the alleyway. It's no use as I try to rub the back of my neck to free up the tension that seems to be lodged there. Allowing my eyes to rise, I notice the boy is pushing her forward, egging her further into the shop and grumbling about the cold.

Turning, she talks softly to him as his eyes roam over her shoulder, searching the area until they land on me.

A dark smirk crosses his unbelievably good looking features. He is tall, taller than me at least, and his jet black shaggy hair is a trait he wears well. From my guess-timations he seems to be in his teens to early twenties, his bulking frame leaving me more wondering than providing answers.

Lovingly he pats her on the forearm and leans in for a kiss to the cheek. It's soft and I can feel the wave of ease they have with each other. The boy is not ashamed of the kiss like most sons, and he offers me only a nod as he leaves the shop and begins to walk across the street.

His nod feels like a silent gesture, like handing over the reins to another, to me. He _trusts_ me, a complete stranger, with someone he loves dearly.

Attentively she steps across the room trying to minimalize the sound her heels are making on the polished ground. I stand staring at her as she draws closer and closer, and it feels as though I am the biggest idiot in the room, judging by the grin on my lips.

"Leah-," I sigh, closing my eyes as she spends no hesitation in embracing me.

Her head nestles into my chest and I can't help but hold the back of her head, carefully as to not destroy her tame hair whilst still using enough force to keep her buried in me.

Her hot breath which skims through my sweater animates memories of the exact same position, only with much less clothes on and sprawled over a bed. The way we always used to do this.

The feel of her arm around my waist has me feeling lightheaded and giddy, a feeling which I no longer associate with my life. I know that time is slowly ticking away but I feel as if I could stand in this very spot for the rest of my life if she were to stay here with me.

Clearing her throat she pulls away to smile that glorious smile up at me. Her big almond eyes sparkle, the corners pinching and showing the effects age has had on my memory of her. Her hair smells clean and her cheeks are cool as I run my warm thumb over the quickly pinkening skin there.

"Edward," she replies softly as her arm squeezes me once more before she begins to pull away.

We sit down and can't help but stare at each other.

My hand nervously holds hers and the warmth that spreads up my arm to my face causes my eyes to flutter. Her smooth thumb presses and rubs against the inside of my palm gently before she straightens in her seat and begins to fidget again with her hair.

"It's new," she states, slowing encircling her ear to tuck several pieces of hair that had blown forward from the wind outside.

"It's nice."

"Thank you," she whispers as her eyes look down at my cup and then across to the young girl serving. Tipping her head, Leah smiles at the girl who immediately walks over gracing a smile of her own.

"Long time no see," the young girl states as she pulls a pen and pad from her apron.

"I only recently got back into town," Leah explains as she searches the menu for something that will tickle her fancy.

Twenty years ago would have had her ordering a shot of vodka with cherry tea, but as I look over her I know that it is less likely to happen than me being able to keep my three daughters from ever experiencing the feeling of heartbreak and betrayal in their young lives.

"Tea, white, two sugars," Leah confirms as she tucks the menu back into place.

Turning to me she smiles, the white pearl of her teeth sliding only fractionally over her bottom lip to gnaw it. "Have you eaten here before?"

"No, never," I shake my head.

"Then we'll have a piece of the boysenberry cheesecake and six chocolate macaroons with the hazelnut ganache as well," she replies, dragging her eyes from mine back to the waitress.

Taking off with the coffee and cake order we wait timidly for Leah's selection to arrive.

"What?" she laughs, noticing my raised brow.

"You still have your sweet tooth," I say, remembering Leah's definitive love of anything resembling a pound of sugar.

"Many things change Edward, but at the same time, many things stay the same," she states softly as she reaches for a napkin and gently tugs at its ends.

Her words are laced with a double meaning and I can't help the slight twitch in my jaw.

Needing to change the subject I glance toward the door. "Your son?"

"Yes," she replies letting a gust of air leave her lips. "He's off the college in the fall and wants to major in _law,_ of all things. I tried to convince the knucklehead otherwise but he has his sights so firmly set. He's a good boy but sometimes I wonder. He's set on saving the world, you know."

Reaching across the table I take her hand and squeeze it in my own. "He sees the world as his mother once did," I offer, but am left feeling slightly dejected when she pulls away.

"Huh," she scoffs as the napkin crumples inside her fist, "little did I know, saving the world is about as pointless as-"

Her words fade as her eyes flick back to mine; pain shuddering so wordlessly beneath her lashes it just about takes my breath away.

Leaning back into the soft leather padded seat she stares intently at me, pulling what bravery I'd conjured up until this point, straight from under my feet. She's always been able to do this, hold me until I withered under the weight of her stare.

"What is it that you want Edward? I highly doubt a twenty year reunion is the reason you wanted me here today."

"I wanted to see you," I choke, feeling nothing like the fifty-four year old man I am supposed to be but rather like the small town farm boy who grew up on the family run property in an American back town of South Dakota.

"Hmm," she drawls suspiciously, her eyes still trained on mine.

The tension breaks as the waitress places down the order in front of us. She can probably feel the tension bouncing back and forth between us but says nothing as she steps away and heads back to the counter.

"So you've seen me." Her voice is flat as she reaches for her hot cup, softly blowing the top to cool it enough to drink.

"Yes. You look good by the way. Your hair, while different, looks... dare I say, cute?"

"Thanks," she chuckles, the mode lightening instantly as she sips her tea. "You look good too, in a strange college professor way."

"It's the shoes isn't it? I told Alice I'd look like an old man in them."

"Alice? Is that your wife?"

"No. Alice is my eldest daughter."

"You have more?"

"Two others. Rosalie and the baby of the family, Renesmee."

"Wow, three girls. Your life must be Hell."

"They're all good girls. Rose took up residency at UW hospital to be a physician in Orthopaedics. Alice, or Ali as her sisters call her, is in South Africa working for the UN and my baby is in her first year of college. Photography, or something outside the realms of my coolness, she tells me."

"Damn. Hard crowd. Brains _and_ beauty. You must have loved the Friday and Saturday nights of junior high filled with booze and boys."

"I was in the army Leah, and I can load a weapon in 2.8 seconds. Something which I shared with each and _every_ boy who stepped foot on my porch to take one of my babies out."

"You loved every second of it, you crazy old coot."

"Yes, well. I suppose I did enjoy it just a little."

"Colin is the one you saw earlier. It's just him, his twin brother Brady and my daughter. But the twins; eighteen, both think they're invincible. Brady plays basketball for the University of Arizona. They drafted him a year early, so he lives with his Aunt until accommodation on campus opens up. Colin is off to college soon, University of Texas. He wants to go to the same place his father's family went."

"So your husband-," I ask, fiddling against the edge of the sugar packets.

"Spit it out Edward," she smiles softly.

Taking a deep breath, I feel my eyes squint with the question, "Are you still married?"

"Yes," Leah smirks as she answers no guilt or conscious thought crossing the question.

I know by the way she looks that she doesn't regret her life or the life she had chosen to lead after me. The thought makes the hair on the back of my neck rise. Even though I'm being unfair, I had wanted her to _still_ want me, like I wanted her.

Some part of my mind still holds on to the concept like a small child with an unwrapped present. There is mystery between her and me, real hard emotions, raw lustful love that left carpet burns and bruises, that left smashed plates and soft morning kisses. Once.

"And you love him?" I ask uncomfortably, tapping my fingers against the wood of the table.

I want to stare her down, make her tell me what I want to hear, even if it is a lie. I still want to hear her raw voice in the middle of the night, still want to hold on to the memory until it happens again.

"Yes Edward, I love him," she announces calmly as she tucks her hair again. My fingertips ache at the motion, the need to do it for her building heavily in my chest. "What about you?"

"My wife and I stayed together until all the girls were grown but we haven't really been together in years. We just - wanted different things I suppose. Had different aspirations, dreams..."

"And you live in Seattle now?"

"Yep."

Her eyes run across my chest and the feeling leaves me breathless. I wonder if some part of her is still attracted to me like it once was. "And your wife?" she asks, cocking and eyebrow and locking her eyes with mine.

She's thinking about something, I know it. She always gets a certain look about her when she thinks too hard or too long on something. I used to love watching her just sit on the steps of my apartment before knocking. The internal conflict she had with herself always became apparent when she came back to me. I'd stand at the window and watch, wait for her to choose me each time.

"Still a resident of San Francisco. She kept the house and the cars. All I wanted was my freedom and my books anyway," I shrug as I take another sip of my ever cooling coffee.

With Leah's tea and ordered items arriving we laugh and share stories about our children. Her boys seem a handful, as much as my girls had been. In some ways we both feel blessed that our children grew up healthy, happy and wanting more out of their lives than what we had wanted in our youth.

It's mesmerising to watch her run her finger around the top of the mug, her eyes down cast, a smile on her lips as she remembers a certain moment in time. My stomach flies with nervousness each time she glances up at me and I feel breathless for most of the conversation. I feel like I'm watching something intimate when she speaks, like it's something that only belongs to her husband.

Sucking my teeth I grip my coffee. In all fairness she was _my_ Leah before she was his. In all fairness I had her love _before_ him and in a large way I would always have it.

Leah and I had lived, truly lived. We fought like feral animals, hurt each other so many times, and hated each other in parts. But everything good I had with her outweighed it all. Every smile, every laugh, every kiss... _God,_ her lips.

"Are you even listening to me?" she smirks as she presses her lips to the warm cup.

Shaking my head and letting my gaze drift from her mouth, I clear my throat, "Of course I was listening," I assure her in earnest, even though I suppose I haven't heard a word.

"You're lying," she muses as she places her cup down, a large smile over her lips, "I know you Edward, and I can always tell when you were lying."

"How?"

"Your lip twitches," she laughs reaching over to rub her thumb over my lip, "It's a trait you can't get rid of. I used to wish I couldn't see it. When you used to tell me -" she drifts off not wanting to finish. "I wish I didn't know you so well."

My breath hitches as she stops rubbing my lip but doesn't move her hand away. She's cupping my cheek and looking at me with a serious gaze, her thinking face back on. I desperately want to reach across, pull her to me and kiss her, but the ramifications are too high. I ruined her life once before, and I am not intent on ruining it again. Not until I have to.

"Mom?"

"Yes, honey?" Leah sighs as we both turn to look at the large bronzed man walk towards us. Technically he's still a kid, but the sheer size of his palms tells me otherwise. He could probably crush a basketball with his bare hands. Or my face.

Pulling up a chair, Leah's son Colin plonks down ungracefully and attempts to stretch his longs legs out in front of him. Taking no real interest in me, or the fact that his mother's fingers were just against my lips, he grabs several biscuits and shoves them in his mouth. "I saw this awesome looking car and I was wondering-"

"No Colin. Your father and I are not buying you a car. Not again," she scowls, sipping her tea in an attempt to ignore the puppy dog eyes he is throwing at her.

"But _Brady_ got a car. This is such bullshit," he whines, tugging at his collar before stuffing his hands in his pockets. Colin reminds me of my daughter Rosalie and it's hard not to smile.

"Brady does _not_ have car. Your aunt is lending hers to him while he's staying in Arizona to get back and forth from the university."

"Whatever - seems unfair is all," he mutters, looking around the shop for the coffee waitress.

When his attempts at locating her fail, he swivels in his chair and smirks at me. "So this is the guy before dad?" he asks his mother as he stares at me with his dark eyes and long lashes.

"Colin," Leah coughs, slapping his arm, "A little more respect."

"What?" he questions as he rubs his arm, "It's weird to think you actually had a life before Dad. I mean, he's my dad. You get that right?" he turns back to me, his lips curling with mirth.

"Edward," I prompt.

"Right, Edward. You understand right? Makes me actually wonder what you want to speak with my _mother_ about."

He's a bright kid I'll give him that. He's trying to make a point by accentuating the word but I brush it off.

Before he can open his mouth his leg buzzes and his attention is diverted to the silver cell. "Oh - I gotta take this. It's Jenna. Order me some pie mom."

"Girlfriend?" I ask curiously as Colin slips out of his chair and heads outside for a more private conversation. Leah grimaces as she sips her tea and taps against the white porcelain with her short manicured nails.

"She's a gold digging whore," she mutters, taking me by surprise.

I didn't think I would get to see the old Leah so early in the game and I notice even she is taken back by her own remark. "I mean," she sighs rubbing her neck in a peculiar way, "No. That's _exactly_ what I mean."

I can't help but laugh at her constricted face.

"Stop laughing," she smiles, rubbing her cheek. "I hate when you laugh at me."

My fingers itch to touch the skin of her cheek and I have to breathe evenly so as to not give away the fact my heart is going to explode with happiness. "But you're so cute when you're angry," I smirk.

"Cute? Huh. You still think so?" she asks unsure.

"Of course. You haven't aged a day since I last saw you," I nod, cracking one of the macaroons in half and handing her the other part.

"You're full of shit Edward Cullen. You know damn well I don't look like I used to."

"You're right. You're much more beautiful," I say honestly, trying to catch her eye, "now, more than ever."

...

Pulling me into the stairwell and going down a level Laurent produces a little dime bag from his jacket pocket. Swinging it in my face he smirks like a fat cat in front of a roast. "Told you this was going to be easy. And once we get paid we'll get plenty more."

"Shit man, put that away," I hiss, snatching for the bag. "Someone could see."

"We'll be alright. No one comes back here," he says, rolling his eyes and popping the little bag open. Dipping his thick finger into the white powder he holds it to his nose and inhales quickly. Groaning out, he hands me the bag, fumbling it into my hands.

"Be careful man," I growl, clutching the bag to my chest as I slowly pull it away and try to right it as to not lose any contents to the floor. Doing the same, I take a hit of white snow by placing it to my nose. Never being one to waste, I spread the powdered remains over my gums, allowing the numbing affect to begin almost instantly.

Stretching my neck I feel the buzz come into play almost immediately. The numbing effect makes shudders run down my spine and my eyes flutter in ecstasy. It's been a while since I've felt this good and I theorise that even though my ethics are being tested with the latest errand, it will be worth it in the end.

My ears prick at the sound of a door bursting open above us followed by streams of shouting. Instantly Laurent and I make ourselves scarce and press up under the stairwell. Cops had a tendency to raid the city's empovished areas, searching for illegal activities and such knowing it was easier to take down a group of crack heads rather than bust their rich, white collared suppliers.

"You did it, didn't you?" A woman shouts in anger, making Laurent nudge me in the ribs.

Laurent is a gossip major and loves seeing himself a good fight. Even in the barracks you could bet on Laurent being there to egg on the occasional fight that broke out amongst the soldiers.

"Get out of my face, Leah. I told you what was going down the night of the party," a man's voice growls, entering the conversation.

"I thought you were kidding," she exclaims, the sound of shifting feet echoing around us. "You have to tell Wayne about this, Nahuel. You can't just go around with your own militia of assholes kicking the shit out of college kids. If you don't tell him, I will."

The sound of bare flesh connecting echoes around us, and I shrug off Laurent's arm, that is holding me back.

"You won't say shit, you melding bitch."

My feet have a mind of their own, as I sprint up the dozen or so steps. My fists clench and my teeth grit when I see the woman on the ground, her legs propping her back up against the wall, her hand holding her cheek.

Lunging at the guy before he can turn around, we tumble forward against the cold concrete ground. Righting myself I straddle his chest and hold his collar tight in my fist, sneering at him like some wild animal.

"Didn't your daddy ever teach you not to hit a woman?" I snarl, shaking his collar when he smirks and glances at the woman.

"My daddy was too busy fucking your mother, asshole."

"I should teach you some fucking respect."

"Give it your best, white bread."

The crackling sound of my fist flying at his face silences him for a moment, before his legs thrash wildly and his own fists are flying toward me. He's fucking fast but with my added powdered adrenalin, I'm faster. He gets a few hits in around my head and to my ribs, but the majority are mine.

He groans and spits blood as his body slowly weakens and he is too spent to fight back. I keep on punching like I'm a damn prized fighter. Inside I don't want to stop and I feel relieved when someone finally pulls me off the fucking asshole.

"Come on," the woman hisses as she pulls my elbow up and tries to grab my jacket. "Seriously, we gotta go," she shouts as she peeks back into the building through the stairwell door, a collective of voices getting louder and closer.

Getting up, I lightheadedly use the wall for support so I don't look like a complete dipshit by falling over. My forehead is throbbing and my knuckles feel split, though the pain is nothing compared to the powerful feeling of kicking that self-righteous dicks ass.

Taking a well needed breath I watch as the woman crouches down and searches through the man's pockets.

"What are you doing?" I ask, glancing around to see if Laurent had followed me up. The answer is no, and I'm curious to where he had taken off to.

_Fuck him_; I think to myself, _he can take care of himself_.

"Teaching him a lesson or two," she smirks as she finds the wallet and pockets it in her grey jeans. Standing up, she spits on the guy only to earn a groan in return.

Kicking his feet apart I know instantly what she is about to do. While I don't condone the general scalping of a man and his masculinity, I figure he deserves as much.

Taking a stance much like a European soccer player, the woman looks up at me, grinning like she's won a Cadillac out of a bag of cheerio's.

"This is for being a completely shit boyfriend," she growls, pulling her leg back before launching it right at his sac.

I look away and cringe, hearing the dull connection of her boot to his jeans. A tight cough followed by the sound of sobbing is the only thing that can be heard in the tight narrow space.

"Come on. That weasels friends won't be too far behind. I know a place where we can go," she whispers as she slips her hand into mine and begins pulling us down the stairwell.

After twenty minutes of walking briskly hand in hand and in silence we arrive at a small complex. A guy who looks as though he's been shooting steroids eyes me darkly before glancing at Leah.

"No," he shakes his head, looking at Leah like she's lost her mind.

"Fuck off Sam. It's not up to you. It's _my_ brother's place," she scowls and waits for him to challenge her again.

"You know the rules Leah. No drugs and no guys that use."

"Hey-" I start, wanting to defend myself. It's not like I'm an addict or anything. I just do it for fun and like the feeling of falling into the abyss.

"He's clean," Leah says in finality as she squeezes my hand and pulls me closer.

The man in front of us, Sam, looks bewildered by her statement and it takes everything in me not to pull her behind me.

"You're _vouching_ for him?"

He's looks at her like he's seen her naked, or at least wants to. He looks at her like a wild animal about to pounce on a two pound steak cooked to perfection.

I glance at her and she's already looking at me. I feel like a part of me is floating so high, like a girl receiving flowers for the first time. She's about to vouch for me and she doesn't even know who I am, what I am and what I can be.

"Yes, I'll vouch," she says softly as she squeezes my hand again. Looking back at the man she runs her tongue along her teeth. "Now get the fuck out of my way before I shove your balls up your ass."

Jesus, this woman really has a thing for threatening where it hurts most.

We climb the dark stairs silently and my feet move out of instinct because my eyes are locked on to our conjoined hands. Her hands are soft which melt away at the rough callousness of my own. Her fingers are long and nimble, graceful but at the same time strong.

It's probably because I'm high that I'm staring at our hands, rather than her ass. The thought strikes me and my eyes flick to her rear. It's nice but goddamn it, it was her hands that I could feel pulsing against my skin.

Pulling me inside the flat she flicks the lights, dead bolts the doors and pulls me to an expensive looking leather couch. The green material sinks as I take a seat and stretch out my legs.

"Stay here," she whispers as she turns on her heel and heads down a wide hallway. I nod mutely and lean back into the chair.

My eyes flutter as I glance around the apartment. From the look of this place outside you would think nothing of it, just another run down, piece of shit hole in the wall. But inside - inside, the apartment is a totally different story. It's huge and furnished, not just with old shitty couches but actual furniture. Everything in the apartment has a place, like the vases over the mantle and the brass framed paintings on the walls.

"My brother likes art," Leah says as she walks back into the living area with a pair of sweats in her hand and a cloth in the other.

"I see," I nod, glancing at each picture and feeling my heart drop slightly with every single frame. "So this is your brother's house?"

"Uh huh," she nods as she takes a seat next to me and pulls my hands forward. "One of them."

Dabbing at my split knuckles she smiles as I let out a hiss. She's got something on the cloth that burns and sizzles my wound.

"Shhh," she hums as she searches my face. "It's just something that will clean up the wound. It's been open too long."

"That fucking kills," I groan as I close my eyes and tighten my mouth. All too soon she lets go, allowing me to flex my fingers in my palm.

"Here take this," she smiles as she stands, passing me a pair of dark blue sweats.

"Why?" I frown as I glance at the door.

"Well, we're going to fuck. And those are for after," she states confidently as she saunters to the kitchen.

I swallow deftly and feel like the drugs are actually kicking in now. Not ever has anyone treated me the way she treats me. She has no right to treat me as if I didn't have a choice. Because I do.

"Says who?" I call out, hoisting myself off the couch to follow.

I stop, feeling a gust of air leaving my lungs as I take in the sight before me. Leah's head is turned knowing that I am closely behind, her shirt long forgotten. She stands in the frame of the bedroom door, her hair cascading down her back and over her shoulders like an endless black satin sheet. Her skin looks like caramel smoothed out over long lean muscles and my fingers clench in anticipation to feel it all under my palms.

Her lip tugs up minutely as her hands slide gently over her hips towards her back. Slowly she unclips each tiny sequence of her bra and shakes her shoulders to free the straps.

"Say's _me_," she grins as she drops the material and saunters toward the room which I assume is a bedroom.

Being a man, I do the only thing I can.

I pull the collar of my shirt over my head and follow the sultry sway of her hips.

...

Walking down the concrete boulevard in a strange silence we watch as the different types of people walk past us, all on to destinations unknown.

There are those in suits, young gun executives eager to get to work and create another million dollar end of year bonus for themselves and those who merely earn enough to get by. There are families, single mother's pushing prams and couples carrying their young children to shield them from the busy streets.

Crossing the road we make our way toward Evergreen Park. The crowds slowly thin out as we walk, painfully slower than each of us has walked before. It gives us time together, especially when we don't know how much time we each have.

Between work, our children, Leah's husband and my ex-wife there's not really a whole time left.

"I still think about us," Leah announces softly as she finally hooks her arm through mine, our shoulders gently nudging as we walk.

I stutter for a moment until she snorts. I can't believe she actually finds this amusing.

"Don't try and act like you didn't want to see for the same reason Edward," she sighs as her head rests against my shoulder. She feels comfortable on my arm, not too short like Bella had been, but just right, my equal and perfect fit.

"I hated you for so long," she mutters quietly as her fingers tug and pick at my sweater covered forearm. "I hated that you could just walk away from me. Like nothing happened. Like I didn't matter. I hated you for being free."

Her words cut deeply and I know that no matter how much I might try, I hurt the only woman I ever loved and I could never take that back.

"I was an idiot," I say softly as I pull us to a stop and turn her to me. Her fingers tug at the hem of my sweater as if it is the most interesting thing in the world. "I hate that I hurt you, Leah. I've been living with the guilt for a life time."

Tears run down her cheeks as she looks up at me and smiles sadly. There is regret in her eyes though I'm not sure if it's from meeting me that night in the stairwell more than twenty years ago or from meeting with me in the cafe only hours ago.

"You always were an idiot," she chuckles, sniffling and wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand.

"I was," I whisper as I cup her cold cheek. "Bella tells me I still am."

"I like this ex-wife of yours. We will have to meet and share notes someday," she grins playfully, though there is a faraway look in her wide hazel eyes.

Brown and yellow leaves fall to the ground as the frosty wind blows around us. The apples of her cheeks are red from the cold and I don't spare a second thought as I lay my cheek against hers, pressing our skin together.

Her cheek is soft against my own and I close my eyes to bite back the groan lodged in my chest. The familiarity of her skin, her smell, the _everything's_ I have missed all these years flood me like a drowning man at sea.

She's everywhere yet, so far away.

Her shaky hand reaches for my neck and her fingers thimble through the fine hairs there. I know she misses me by the way her pulse races, by the way her fingers are tentative at first but then soothing and constant. I wish there was something more I could say, words that could define this feeling trapped inside my heart.

"Edward," she whispers, gently tugging on my hair to pull me back.

Shaking my head in protest she sighs. I don't want to move, be away from her for one more second. I've already wasted too much of my life without her.

"I'm married, Edward."

"I. don't. care," I choke, pulling her closer to me, pressing us into the familiar burning memory of each other's bodies.

Stroking her fingers through my hair she soothes the pain if only for a moment. "You should care, Edward," she whispers.

"I love you." I swallow as I make the declaration, pulling back only slightly.

Her eyes are closed tightly as if she's wincing, hearing something she'd rather forget.

"I think about you. All. the. time. I've been in love with you ever since the first night. Only I was too stupid to realise it."

Her breath hitches as she fists my hair. Moving back I feel the cold slowly engulfing my body now that we are apart, now that she has pulled away. She's shaking her head like a disappointed parent and I feel the lump reinsert itself in my throat.

"Say something," I plead, the desperation consuming me. "Please."

"How. dare. you. How dare you do this to me," she growls, eying me intensely.

"Leah, I-"

"No," she snarls, placing her hand in the air to stop my advances. "You don't get to talk. You _shut._ up."

I clench my mouth shut and wait. After all, this is what I've wanted to hear after all this time, isn't it?

She laughs sarcastically as she looks at me. I feel like my stomach's about to drop out of my feet by the way her eyes shoot through me straight into my soul. This is the old Leah re-surfacing. The Leah who doesn't care for fancy clothes, or status or anything without Vodka after 10am. She's the fire that ignites my veins, the one true thing that completes me and the only person who can make me feel two feet tall at the same time.

"I can't believe you would do this to me. _Now_. Of all the fucking times. All the years. You have no _idea_ how long I waited for you to say that."

Her fist flies through the air and connects me right in the chest.

I grunt in pain but am quick enough to catch her fist before she can swing it again. "I'm sorry."

"The Hell you are. You're not sorry, Edward. Not really," she growls, trying to wiggle her other wrist free which I now have locked in my palm.

"I should have told you I loved you a long time ago. I should have made you stay that night." My words are but a whisper, calm and soothing which only manages to enrage her more.

"Damn right you should have told me, you fucking coward." Her hand breaks free, swiping across my face with a loud slap before I'm able to catch it again.

Her breathing is laboured from struggling, her neatly tucked hair swaying around her face making her so breathtakingly beautiful that I can't help but kiss her.

I _have_ to kiss her.

...

Pushing away from him, I stumble and land in a heap on the edge of the pathway.

My shoulders slump as I shake, tears running over my cheeks as I rub furiously at the numbing feeling of his lips on mine. I can't stand it. Not anymore.

Edward Cullen had his chance and he fucked it all to Hell.

Over the years I had gotten married, given birth to three beautiful children, went on family holidays, took my boys to football practice and my daughter to countless soccer matches. My husband knew who I was, knew things about me that no one but Edward knew, yet I still felt incomplete. Like something crucial was missing. Like part of me had died.

_He_ was the one thing I couldn't let go of.

Twenty years was not nearly long enough to forgive him, nor stop loving him.

"I shouldn't have agreed to meet you. I - This shouldn't have happened. _We_ shouldn't have happened."

"Don't say that," his voice is desperate, as he shuffles toward me and kneels by my side. "Don't ever say that Leah. You were the best thing in my life."

His hand gently tucks around my waist as he lifts me to my feet. His chest is so warm, so fucking familiar, it aches inside my bones. His arms are still strong, bracketing me in and rocking me like a child to comfort the small sniffles coming from my throat. I hate that I have never forgotten him and I hate that my husband has always had to be second best.

"It's not fair," I whisper, hugging Edward back as my head nestles against his sweater.

Our dangerous liaisons had always kindled on the brink of insanity. Maybe it was because there was just too much of it to contain. Maybe instead of our love being a slow burning candle, it resembled an inferno, burning so brightly it would melt all those who came in contact with it. Maybe it was us who sabotaged the one thing which inspired our passion. Maybe our love had killed us both.

"I know," he mutters back as he pets my hair and kisses my head.

"It wasn't meant to be like this."

"I know honey, I know."

I don't know how long I stand clinging to Edward but when my son's voice echoes out I pull away quickly. Edward only offers me a sad smile in consolation as my son jogs down the path eyeing the both of us suspiciously.

"You ready mom? Dad's here," Colin asks, glancing back toward the main street.

"Yes, of course," I reply as I take a step back, slowing increasing the space between us.

Edward doesn't reply, he doesn't wave, only watches as I step back again to turn on my heel.

My eyes drift over my shoulder every now and then like I'm checking that he's still there, that he's actually real and that today happened.

"You alright mom? You look kind of... pale," my son states as we walk closer to the black town car.

"I'm fine," I gulp as I pat his forearm and glance back again. "How's Jenna?"

This time Edward's gone from his spot and it takes all that I have in me to run back and search for him. Letting him go the first time was hard enough.

"She's good, mom. Come on, dad's waiting. We've gotta be at the airport by three," he insists as he tugs on the cuff of my coat, pulling me toward the car.

Maybe another twenty years will bring us the resolve we need.

_Maybe_.

.

AN - A one-shot for now, BUT, that could change in the future. I hope you all enjoyed. Much like I am enjoying these choc chip cookies. Seriously, it should be a crime to be this delicious!


	2. Chapter 2

Sitting in the airport recliner a cool shiver runs down my spine. The business lounge is packed with corporate dickheads and I make sure to keep my drink full and my voice low.

Colin is chatting to a blonde girl who is gleaming with excitement that he's actually paying attention to her, while my husband sits amongst the black leather, close enough to show that we're together, but far away enough so as to not smoother me.

His eyes watch me as he drinks his scotch, the ting of his wedding ring making me cringe every time it clanks against the stout glass.

"How was your 'blast with the past'?" he questions as I close my eyes and turn away from the sound of his deep voice.

"Fine," I answer, trying to calm my fried nerves. My whole body is still thrumming after touching Edward again after so long; its treacherous act leaving my heart aching for more.

"And I suppose his wife was merely _fine_ as well?"

Taking a large sip of my drink I place it on the side table and wave over the brightly dressed waitress.

"He's divorced," I chuckle, leaning my head back and rolling my neck.

"Huh," he states, using that cool fucking voice he knows I hate, "how... convenient."

"Just say it Sam. We all know you're dying to," I snap as the waitress nervously takes my empty glass.

Leaning forward Sam's dark eyes roam me for a moment. "I _knew_ that night. I knew he would do what he did, be what he was. I _told_ you, Leah. I told you not to trust him."

Flipping my husband off I grumble my thanks to the girl and scull my drink down, coughing as the last of the liquid slips down my throat.

"You know what," I growl, ready to tell Sam to shove the self-induced coma of arrogance up his ass.

Before I can answer Colin is already out of his chair and whip calling out to his brother just as they had done as boys.

My anger dissolves quickly as I spot Brady weaving through the heavy traffic outside the private doors. He's hair is shorter but his smile is bright as he lugs the huge shoulder bag with him.

Bursting through the doors of the passenger lounge, Colin and Brady man hug and holler for several minutes before I think about interrupting.

Both Sam and I stand side by side waiting for Brady to see us. I wonder if it's hard for the boys to be apart after living and being so close together for near their entire life. Maybe though it's time for them to grow as individuals and not just be 'the twins'.

With the biggest grin I've ever seen Brady walks briskly to us and hugs us both.

"Mom, Dad. I missed you guys."

His voice is deeper and I want to laugh, still remembering fresh in my mind the sound of his sweet high pitched baby voice.

"Son," Sam announces proudly.

Sam's always loved the twins more, even though he tries to hide it. I don't know if it's a father son thing or if it just comes with the territory.

"Guess who I picked up on my connecting flight from Atlanta," Brady grins mischievously as he jerks his thumb back toward the door.

There in the door is my other baby.

Long gone is her flowing brown curls, replaced with a shorter more manageable cut. Her headphones dangle around her neck and I want to cry so badly that my chest constricts.

Three years at a London University has removed all of the chubby cheeks and minimal baby fat she harboured.

She's lean, and tall, yet still looks so much like a fawn. No one would have ever guessed she was studying on a scholarship by playing for the universities women's soccer team.

All my babies have a gift and I'd spent countless years making sure that no chance was skipped and no opportunity lost. It's paid off for all of them and I'm glad.

She doesn't have time to say hello as Colin picks her up and spins her in circles, both Brady and I laughing from the sight of her kicking and punching to get out of her baby brother's grasp.

"Put your sister down," I chill.

Once her feet hit the floor I wrap myself around her and kiss her head.

She grumbles a hello to Sam before smiles up at me. "Hey mom."

"Hey, sweetie. What are you doing here?"

"I have to get a check up on my knee. Some Manchester asshole speared me last game of the season. So, I'm back, for a little while."

We make small talk as we head back to the car, the boys towing their luggage as well as Ellie's, while I get reacquainted with my daughter and the happenings of the chic London scene.

Brady talks about his training resume, and he and his sister swap hints about pre-game warm ups, while Colin begs Sam to reconsider the new car thing.

While Ellie looks like her brothers, there is a difference in them.

Though everyone in the family treats her in the same manner as the twins, they know that she isn't Sam's.

I've never kept the secret from her and had explained that just because things began shitty, that they wouldn't be shitty for ever. That no matter what, she was my daughter, and for that I was blessed.

She understands my reasoning's but I can see the disappointment in her eyes sometimes. She wants to know her father. She wants him to know she exists and to be assured that had things worked out differently between us, he would have been a good father and that he would have loved her.

...

Sitting in the garden I watch as the breeze ruffles through the shrubbed garden, tilting the roses and like flowers. The air is clean unlike the city and I know that out of all the decisions I'd made in my life, moving outside of the hustle and bustle was what was best for _my_ children.

Sam commutes everyday back and forth from the city to our property which cuts down on the time we get to spend together. Sometimes it's a good thing, Sam and I never being too fond of each other in large doses anyway. I do love him; I have for a long time.

But it's not the same as what I had with Edward.

Sam was a love of convenience and even though it sounds cruel and unforgivable, I knew he knew that.

He's happy to be second best which aggravates me more than anything.

No one should ever want to be second place in a person's heart, not ever.

"Mom?"

Turning I spot my daughter lingering on the outskirts of the house, a blanket and small leather book in her hand.

Smiling and waving her over, I shift on the wooden bench and make room for my baby.

She sits awkwardly at first, but once she notices my out stretched hand, her head makes its way to my lap as her fingers tap idly on the book.

"What's up?" I smile tugging my fingers through her much shorter hair. As a child it had been so long and curly, I often had her crying in my lap when it tried to drag a comb through it.

"Coach Sanders called my appointments tomorrow at UW. Will you come?"

"Of course," I nod, picking at the light brown highlights riddled through her dark curls. There's an almost orange tint to the streaking and my heart flutters.

Nervously biting her nails, Ellie looks out into the gardens. "Colin told me about today."

"He did, did he?" I muse playing with the small down hairs around her temple.

"Yeah," she grumbles pressing her lips into a firm line. "What did _he_ want?"

Swallowing I feel the breeze softly rustle across my hairline making the hairs stand to attention. "He told me he was still in love with me," I whisper.

"Whoa," my daughter gasps, shooting upright and clutching my forearm.

By the face she is pulling I know she can see the tears gathering in the corners of my eyes. "Are you serious? Did you tell Sam? Did you tell _him_-"

_About me, _she so desperately wants to spit out but doesn't.

Petting her cheek I shake my head. "No, honey. He doesn't know. And I'm not going to leave Sam. It wouldn't be right."

"But mom," she groans as she shucks the blanket and throws it over both of us, "You could be happy. I know you're not happy with Sam."

My daughter is far too inquisitive for her own good. "That's not true baby. Sam's been very kind to me."

"Kind to you?" she scoffs, picking at her nails. "No offence mom, but Sam's kind of an asshole. To everyone."

Chuckling I kiss my daughters forehead and smile against her curls. "I know you want _him_ to know, Ellie. I know you want him to love you. I promise I'll tell him. Just not right now."

"Okay," she mumbles into my shoulder as she gets comfortable and we enjoy the rest of the afternoon catching up.

...

Watching my family over the dinner table causes the knots in my stomach to tighten. Sam laughs with the kids; play fights with the boys and gives Ellie advice about her classes.

He smiles and enjoys there company as they eat, his large hands tightly wrapping around the silver cutlery. Sam's hands are much bigger than Edwards, his hair straight and black. His nose is more pronounced and his lips full and beautiful. My husband is the epitome of handsome and yet I find nothing remotely attractive about him.

I try to smile as he glances in my direction, but know I look as unpleasant as I feel.

His eyebrow lifts in question but I shake the unsaid question away.

"Mom, this food is great," Brady replies as he scoops a second helping of the pasta.

Before I can reply, Sam snorts and shoves in another mouthful of spinach and ricotta. "You know your mother can't cook," he mocks as he tuts his fork in my direction. "This is all thanks to that Italian place on Rossdale."

Feeling a lick of embarrassment rise in my cheeks, I place my fork down on my untouched plate.

"Come on mom," Colin pleads, glancing at his brother and sister for support. "Dad was only kidding. Right Dad?"

Shrugging his shoulders Sam takes another mouthful. "Sure. I was only kidding. Sit down, Leah."

My fingers tighten around the napkin in my hands and take my seat again at the table.

"You wouldn't want to ruin a nice family dinner now, would you?" Sam asks snidely as my shaking hand reaches for the fork.

After a moment of silence Sam drops his cutlery to the plate and wipes his mouth with a napkin. Fishing around in his pant pocket he retrieves the thin black cell and flips it open.

"Sam. Yeah. What did I tell them? No. No god damn it. I want all of the penthouses finished by the fifteenth. I told Sloan we needed the marble. Fuck."

Sam leaves the table, taking his cell and drink with him as he storms off toward his office. I can feel my children watching me with pity in their eyes and I can't help but swallow around the tight lump in my throat.

"You okay?" Ellie asks as she stands to clear away her plate.

"Fine." I mumble as I put the fork down once again.

"Dad's just stressed out," Colin comments to himself. He's always been the inbetweener, my big boy Colin. While his sister and brother moved away from home, he'd taken it on himself to help around the house, even going so far as to always be present for the awkward dinners.

Glancing down the hall, I sigh. Sam is always so intergrated in my brothers holdings he barely notices the me anymore. Sometimes I think that Sam only married me out of a feeling of duty to my older brother. After Seth's long battle in a hospital bed, he'd given me all his earthly possessions, including the real estate and art pieces he had managed to gather over the years. Seth had also made Sam promise to take care of me in his stead, that as his best friend it was now up to Sam to make me happy.

"Penny for your thoughts," Ellie states as she bumps my shoulder and leans against the kitchen sink beside me.

I sniffle as I swirl my hands amongst the soapy water. "He would have loved to have seen you all. Meet you." I continue when Ellie scrunches her brow in question. "Your uncle Seth."

Nodding Ellie takes my hands from the water and hands me a cloth to dry them off on. My daughter sees through me like a pane of glass. My children had enough to deal with, let alone adding my problems to their plate.

"Come on," she mutters as she tugs my elbow.

Moving across the room she passes me my coat and grabs her own.

"Where are we going?" I ask as I glance through the living room to see Brady and Colin arguing over who was going to kick whose ass on the gaming console.

"We're going for a drink. Trust me. You need this," she grins as she throws a scarf over my neck and ties it tightly.


	3. Chapter 3

"I've missed this," my daughter drawls as she slides another shot in my direction. Slapping down a twenty on the wet bar, she reaches for the salt and licks the instep of her thumb and fore finger.

"Drinking?" I question dumbly, feeling the full effect of the now empty tequila glasses. It's been a long time, and the drink is no longer friend, but foe.

Shaking her head and passing me the shaker she laughs. "No. Hanging out. Just me and you. No boys."

"You mean no Colin and Brady," I smirk knowingly. As the oldest she's always had to fight for dominance against her brothers, fight to fit in and fight for an identity her siblings had been born into.

Clinking our glasses together, I down the hot liquid and shudder as I take an after breath.

"Exactly," Ellie coughs and pulls a face. "God, I really hate this stuff."

"It _is_ pretty disgusting," I concur as I pull the grind of lemon from between my teeth and dispose the skin in the glass.

Signalling the bar tender I order a couple of beers and slink towards finding us a booth. Sliding down against the brown leather I watch as Ellie picks the label of her drink.

"You okay, baby?" I ask, feeling my motherly spidey senses tingle. Reaching across I touch her forearm gently, coaxing a response. With a quick tongue and a sharp mind, my daughter's always been a shining example of a guarded heart. Much like my own had been.

"Just worried about school... this stupid knee... everything." She huffs, brushing the hair from her face. "Depending on tomorrow's scans, my season might be over."

"I'm sure it will be fine," I reply, brushing aside her comment.

"League scouts came to our last game. Scouts, mom. They're never going to pick me up if my injury is already a problem."

Before I can answer she silences me with a shake of the head.

"Arsenal are interested in making me their new mid fielder. I've had offers already. Birmingham City are looking for new recruits too. I know it's not up to par with the men's league, but the money's good, mom. Really good. But if I need to go under the knife, it could end everything."

...

"You ready?" The nurse asks as she places Ellie inside the capsule that will scan the ligaments and joins of her knee.

"Sure," she gulps as the nurse injects a clear ink through the drip attached to her foot.

"It's going to feel a little funny at first but that's how you know it's working."

"Will it hurt?" I ask.

"No. The ink will show the doctors everything they need to know. The ink will glow blue in the scans and will tell us if there is any damage that will need to be fixed. It's a fairly basic procedure. A lot of elite sports people come in for the same thing all the time."

Ellie squeezes my hand a little firmer. My heart squeezes along with our conjoined hands. There's something in me that wants nothing more to do than take my daughter away from this place. To protect her. But she's not a little girl any more and I can't hide the fact that I can't protect her from everything the world is.

Once the scans are complete, and the nurse instructs us where to go next, I wait in the hallway to allow Ellie to change back. She has a small worried smile on her face as she adjusts her sports shorts and re-ties her short hair.

"The nurse said we should just wait in the next hall. There should be a waiting room there." I say as I reach into my bag for my ringing cell. "I'll meet you there." I tell her with pitiful eyes as I answer.

"Hello?"

"Mom, where are you?"

"At the hospital with your sister, Brady. Why?"

"Dad's office called. Dad needs you to sign some papers. Something about knocking down a house on Emerald Street."

"I'll call your father now." I say a little harshly, my spine ramrod straight.

Fucking Sam.

But before I can call Sam to scream at him through the cell, Ellie calls out, waving me over. Shaking my head clear of all outside thoughts I slip my phone back into my bag. My daughter comes before Sam and his bullshit games.

Ellie drags my hand as she ushers me into a small yet brightly light office. Instead of the glow of artificial light, natural beams stream through a glass paneled wall, lined only with soft beige curtains. My eyebrows lift in wonder. The specialists offices were much more inviting than the rest of the hospital.

A young blonde doctor smiles when we enter, offering us both a seat in front of the large mahogany desk. Her long blonde hair cascades down her back even though it is tied tight at the nape of her neck. In a dark red blazer and black slacks, she is very much the professional I had envisioned.

"Please, please sit," she says graciously as she takes a large yellow envelope from the nurse behind us. "Elizabeth, I presume " Her hand is outstretched toward my daughter and they shake briefly before it is my turn. "And Mrs. Uley."

"Thank you for seeing us," I smile. "On such short notice..."

"Oh please call me, Rose. And the pleasure is all mine. I am privilege to help out a fellow comrade."

"You play?" my daughter asks, cocking her head to the side, a little disbelievement running across her features.

"University of California. MVP for three years in a row."

"What position?" Ellie asks, a wave of relief washing over her. She's found a source of trust in the young doctor and my fears slowly melt. At least this experience will be a little easier for her.

"Goal," the doctor smirks before standing up and moving to a lit glass panel near the desk. "I hear you play a mean mid-field."

"I'm okay," my daughter shrugs as her cheeks pinken.

Pulling several sheet of scans from the envelope Dr. Rose mounts them carefully against the glass. I can't help but study the young doctors face, looking for early signs of a good or bad situation. Her eyebrows are arched perfectly over her eyes. While her eyes are light, her dark lashes and brow give her a beautifully exotic look. Her eyes are so familiar to me, yet as I circle my thoughts, they quickly fade.

The doctor smiles briefly before she turns. She explains what is causing the stiffness and pain in my daughters knee. There are no torn ligaments, only a fine build up of cartilage across the crucial ligament. Rose explains that with a simple, half hour, non invasive procedure, Ellie's knee would be fine. She would need to have the procedure repeated every two years to make sure the knee stayed clean inside but other than that, she'd only be off it for two weeks.

With a beaming smile, Ellie jumps to hug the doctor thankfully before we head back out to the nurses station where they book Ellie in for the surgery in the coming days.

"I can't wait to tell the team," she laughs as she texts furiously on her cell.

I roll my eyes and begin filling out the paperwork for my daughter. She is of course old enough to do so, however I feel that it is something extra that I can do for her since she will no longer allow me to baby her.

Once I drag my daughter back over to the desk to sign and consent to the procedure, the head nurse slips me a small white card.

"You can call Dr. Rose if you have any follow up questions. Your surgery has been booked in for Thursday. It should only take a few hours to go through pre-admission and then the procedure and after care. Make sure she has someone dropping her off and picking her up otherwise we will be unable to discharge the patient."

I nod, flipping the card over. My heart leaps into my throat, my palms instantly sweat filled. Closing my eyes I flip the card over, back and forth. Christ.

University of Washington

**Medical Specialist - Orthopaedics**

Dr. Rosalie Cullen _BMe, BSu, MOt_

_..._

"This is not up for discussion, Sam. You are not demolishing my brother's house," I hiss as I remove my jewellery and wash my hands in the basin.

The house on Emerald Street is one of the only properties my brother had left me that was out of the question.

"Oh come on, Leah. The house is basically worthless, but the land it sits on has the potential to make us very rich. It's one of the only blocks in the city that hasn't been redeveloped," Sam snaps back as he loosens his tie and throws in down onto the bed.

"It's Seth's house, Sam. There was only one thing I asked of you when I gave you lead of his company. And I refuse to change my mind. It's the only thing I have left of him and you are not taking that away."

I jump as I look into the mirror, finding Sam standing not nearly two inches away.

"Your'e brother is dead, Leah. Dead. When are you going to let him go. He's not going to know if you knock that piece of shit house down." His voice is low and I can feel the heat of his breath on the back of my neck. "You will NOT stand in the way of this. We are talking about a lot of money here."

Closing my eyes, I shudder. Feeling his hands grip my neck softly I stiffen like a board. His hard breath echoes around the shell of my ear before he speaks, soft and deadly.

"This is about that son of a bitch Edward, isn't it?"

I shake my head. "No, your wrong."

"I should have never allowed you to meet with him."

Taking a deep breath I open my eyes and stare at Sam through the bathroom mirror. This is not the man I married. Not the man I have loved for the past ten decades. Sam is just the man I settled for. The man who my brother thought would make me happy and protect me.

"You don't own me, Sam."

He is startled for only a moment before his caress turns to a pinch around my neck. He looks back at me with dark eyes; eyes I'd once looked into and vowed to love forever.

"Really?" Pulling back my hair I cry out, grasping onto his knuckled grip. Pressing his mouth forcefully against my ear he hisses lowly. "We'll see about that."

Pushing my head forward Sam lets go and leaves me in the huge bathroom.

Collapsing to the tiled ground I cry only once I hear the loud squeal of his car peeling out of the drive. Where he goes I don't know. Don't care.

Without missing a heart beat I wipe my face and reach for my cell on the vanity. With shaky hands I dial his number.

It takes four rings for him to answer and I feel my chest clench at just hearing his voice.

"Hello?"

"Edward..." I sniffle, as I try to find the words I need.

"Hey, what's wrong? Are you alright? I'm coming to you. Where are you?"

The sound of shuffling clothes sounds through the phone.

"No. Please. Just talk to me. Tell me something, just talk." I stutter back, not ready to see him in such a state.

He sighs loudly. "Just tell me you're okay."

"I'm okay."

"Are you hurt?"

"No," I breathe as I shake my head.

"What do you want me to say?" he asks, unsure of himself.

"Tell me a story, Edward. Anything. You always told such amazing stories."

As Edward talks I am taken back to another place. Back to another time. Back to where I wasn't afraid.

Where neither of us were.


End file.
